Chapter 3 - THE UNWELCOME GUESTBefore Adrian could cross the floor, his chief enforcer, a hulking brute named Sal with a jagged scar running from his ear to his collarbone, stepped into my path.
"Turn around, Victoria," Sal growled, his hand drifting dangerously toward his jacket pocket. "You aren't on the guest list. And the boss doesn't want trash at his wedding."
I didn't flinch. I didn't even slow down.
"Trash?" I repeated, my lips curving into a cold, mirthless smile. "Sal, darling, if I'm trash, what does that make the man who spent five years sharing a bed with me while skimming millions from his own syndicate's pension funds?"
Sal’s face went slack. Behind him, several high-ranking capos shifted uncomfortably.
Adrian was already pushing through the crowd, his jaw clenched so tightly I could hear the pop of teeth grinding together. He reached us in three long strides, his hand shooting out to grab my bare wrist. His grip was ironclad, designed to intimidate, to assert dominance.
"What the hell are you doing here, Victoria?" he hissed, leaning down so his voice wouldn't reach the gawking crowd. "Are you out of your mind? Security will throw you out in handcuffs before you take another step."
"Try it, Adrian," I whispered back, locking my eyes onto his. There was no fear in my gaze—only a bottomless, freezing void that made him instinctively step back. "Touch me, and within three seconds, every offshore account, every bribe ledger, and every wire transfer linking you to the federal indictments currently sitting on the DOJ's desk becomes public domain."
Adrian’s breath hitched. His eyes darted from my face down to the covered carrier in my arms.
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"What is that?" he demanded, his voice trembling slightly with a mixture of rage and sudden, creeping dread. "What did you bring?"
"Family, Adrian," I said smoothly, lifting the veil just enough for him to catch a glimpse of a tiny, sleeping face. "You said you wanted an heir. You never specified which woman had to give it to you."
